


going for it

by delightfulalot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfulalot/pseuds/delightfulalot
Summary: The best part, though, is definitely Auston in the dressing room in his suit, a giant grin on his face. “Way to enter the next century, boys,” he says, his smile twisting in that way Mitch loves, and that’s when Mitch makes a decision to just fuckin’go for it.





	going for it

**Author's Note:**

> oops i had a lot of mitch marner feelings today and my good friend [torigates](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates) said "'new century, new me' - mitch marner" and my immediate thought was FIC WHERE HE USES THAT TO KISS THE SHIT OUT OF AUSTON. and then i watched mitch's goal approx. 17 times and this happened. thanks to julie for sprinting with me and making sure i actually did this! this is ridiculously un-betaed and also just ridiculous and for that, i'm mostly sorry

Leading up to the Century Game, Mitch isn’t really expecting much. They get awesome new jerseys, sure, and it’s always fun playing to a bunch of kids, like the ones who are supposed to fill up the ACC, but he’s still in a goal slump. The team’s still in a three-game skid. 

Auston’s still out.

He’s still himself, still playing for his hometown team, so he’s ready to go when the game starts, just like he always is. 

And then, five and a half minutes into the first, he dekes his way through what seems like every Hurricane on the ice and slaps a shot past Darling to make it two-zip. 

For a split second he’s convinced the puck is going to go straight off the post, pinging uselessly out to the side, and it even _hits the post_ , makes that noise he keeps hearing in his nightmares, but then it’s _in_ and the red light goes off and he slams himself into the boards in celebration. 

“Fuck yeah!” he screams, and Mo’s corresponding grin is so wide it looks like his face is going to split in two as he hugs Mitch. 

From then, something is just _on,_ and they stumble a bit in the second -- _we’re gonna Leaf it up_ , he thinks once -- but then halfway through the third he gets his third assist and his fourth point off a feed to Bozie and Patty. Kappy scores six seconds later, and Mitch looks up at the scoreboard -- maybe a little bit towards the press box and Auston, the only thing that would make today even better -- in just a little bit of disbelief and awe. 

They do it, they win, and not even in a “hold on and somehow make it through” way, but in a (hopefully) slump-busting way. Media is even somehow fun, when it’s been almost like pulling teeth through both of his slumps so far this year.

The best part, though, is definitely Auston in the dressing room in his suit, a giant grin on his face. “Way to enter the next century, boys,” he says, his smile twisting in that way Mitch loves, and that’s when Mitch makes a decision to just fuckin’ _go for it_. 

He can’t go for it in the middle of the room, though, so he just showers and changes back into his suit and goes out to eat with some of the guys. It’s a boisterous affair, which makes sense for the game they just had, the holidays coming up. Mitch takes Auston home to pick up his bag for the road trip after, both of them singing along to Mitch’s playlist there and back, dumb fucking grins on their faces. 

Mitch almost goes for it there, in the car in front of Auston’s place, and then again in his living room, and then, for the last time, just before they get to the plane. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he sits next to Marty like he always does, and Auston sits next to Freddie, and Mitch tries to settle down, calm his nerves, maybe take his time to _think it through_. 

He bounces his leg enough that Marty finally wraps his entire palm around Mitch’s knee. 

“Mouse,” he says, firm. “Calm the fuck down.” 

“Just because _you_ didn’t score,” Willy says from across the aisle, grinning, and Marty wings his empty cup at Willy’s face. He ducks, laughing, and the cup hits Kappy on the shoulder, which just makes Willy laugh _more_. 

Willy’s right, though; everyone on the plane is loud and obnoxious, the early game combined with the early flight, and honestly, it makes more sense for Mitch to be bouncing off the walls with everyone else. He doesn’t really want to, though, afraid he’s going to give in and go for it right there, in front of everybody, so he lets himself sit there, lets Marty rub a thumb soothingly over his kneecap. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Marty says after a few minutes, when he’s chucked the napkin from under his cup at Willy, too, trying to get him to shut up to no avail.

Mitch thinks about it. He knows that Marty will be on his side, maybe even tell Mitch to go for it. But there’s that small part of him that’s not _totally_ sure it’s a good idea, doesn’t know what it’ll mean, like, for the team, or his friendship, and he doesn’t -- he doesn’t want anyone to talk him out of it, frankly. 

“Nah,” he says, shrugging, and Marty just nods. 

“I’m here if you need me,” he says, and Mitch smiles at him. 

“Thanks, Dad,” he says. Marty rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder, but he’s smiling back. 

Mitch is still restless when they get to the hotel in Columbus, but this time he knows it’s anticipation. He doesn’t realize it’s making him quiet until Auston’s let them into their room and dropped his stuff onto the bed farther from the air conditioner, like that’ll keep him any warmer. 

“You okay?” Auston asks, sitting on the bed and looking at Mitch, that small smile he only really gets around Mitch on his face. 

“Yeah,” Mitch says, sitting on his own bed, facing Auston. “Just tired, I guess.” 

“You had a big day,” Auston agrees, and then his smile twists again and Mitch can see the chirp coming a mile away. “All your friends got to skip naptime and see you play.” 

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Y’know, that’s not as effective when we literally take naps as part of our job.” 

Auston shrugs and laughs anyway. “I thought it was pretty good.” 

“Oh, you thought it was pretty good?” Mitch mocks, and Auston laughs harder when Mitch throws a pillow at him. He bats it away, pretends to wipe away a tear from laughing so hard, which makes Mitch laugh too. 

Auston smiles that soft smile again and Mitch steels himself, about to get up and go for it, and then Auston says, completely earnestly, “Seriously, Mitchy, you played so great today. You _deserved_ that goal. And that pass to Bozie?” He whistles. “Beautiful, man. You were on _fire_.” 

Mitch shrugs. “New century, new me.” 

Auston grins and starts to say something else but Mitch doesn’t hear, doesn’t pay attention, because he’s going for it. 

He launches himself from the bed and, like, onto Auston, enough to crowd into his space and press their lips together. He comes at it from maybe a weird angle and he definitely should’ve waited until Auston closed his mouth or stopped talking because he absolutely puckers up to some teeth. But still. They’re _kissing_. Or, like, some vague approximation of it, at least. 

It only takes Auston a second to figure out what’s happening, and then he’s gasping, quick, and reaching out for Mitch’s hips, angling his head so their mouths line up right. The kiss goes from being good because it’s Mitch and Auston to actually legitimately being good, and it’s Mitch’s turn to make an embarrassing noise -- a quick moan when Auston squeezes his hips -- and he moves closer, crowding into Auston until he’s straddling his lap, knees on either side of Auston’s hips. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Auston says, breathless, when they pull apart for just a second to catch their breath, and Mitch wraps his arms around Auston’s ( _big, wide_ ) shoulders and grinds down onto his lap involuntarily. 

Auston’s hands tighten on Mitch’s hips and he looks up at the ceiling, overwhelmed. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” Mitch says. It feels almost a little too raw, too real, but before he can start to regret it Auston’s looking back at him. 

“If we’re doing this,” he starts, slow. “I want us to do all of this. No half-assing it.” 

Mitch cups Auston’s cheek with one hand, tender in a way he’s always wanted to be but never allowed himself. “Baby,” he says, and Auston’s gaze goes dark. Mitch files that away for later and continues. “Let’s whole-ass this thing.” 

Auston grins. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but then he’s moving his hand to kiss Mitch’s palm, and then leaning forward to kiss Mitch’s lips again. Mitch kisses back, wraps his arms around Auston’s shoulders again. Auston’s hands move from Mitch’s hips to his ass, just lightly resting there. Mitch rolls his hips, grinding down again, and Auston makes this _noise_ in the back of his throat and squeezes Mitch’s ass in both hands before pulling back to lightly slap it while simultaneously getting his tongue in Mitch’s mouth. 

Mitch makes the most embarrassing noise he’s ever made, but in his defense he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any blood left in his brain because it’s all in his _dick_ , god. He pulls back enough to bite Auston’s lower lip, hard. “Asshole,” he says, but he sounds breathless and, goddamn, fond enough that he knows it’s not as cutting as he wants it to be. 

“You like it,” Auston says, lazy smile spreading across his face. Mitch rolls his eyes, hitches himself higher on Auston’s lap with one arm, rubbing their dicks together through their pants. At least he’s not the only one hard. 

“Fuck you,” Mitch says easily, and Auston’s smile goes dirty, twisting into a smirk. 

“I was gonna suggest that,” he says. 

Mitch’s brain short-circuits. 

His eyes fix on Auston’s tongue, lightly rubbing against his lips, as Mitch cycles through excuses. 

“We can’t -- we have a game tomorrow -- you’re still _injured_ \--” but the kicker seems to be, “I don’t _have_ anything, not even lube.” 

Auston shrugs, easy, and leans in to kiss Mitch, using a truly obscene amount of tongue. “Next time,” he says, and Mitch looks up at the ceiling, groaning. 

“I’m gonna come in my pants,” he says, once he thinks he’s actually not in active danger of that, looking at Auston. 

“Don’t do that,” Auston says, kissing a line down Mitch’s neck. “I’ve still gotta give you your career-high-in-points blowjob.” 

Mitch brings a hand up to tangle in Auston’s hair as Auston keeps working his way around Mitch’s collar with his mouth. “Fuck, yes, let’s do that,” Mitch says. 

Auston bites at the skin currently under his mouth and looks up to grin at Mitch. “Take off your pants and lie down.” 

Mitch scrambles to do as he’s told, stripping off his shirt and underwear too. Auston gets up from the bed to shed his own clothes, and Mitch -- Mitch maybe lets out a sigh when Auston’s done, standing naked and hard next to Mitch. Auston raises his eyebrow at him. 

“You look nice,” Mitch says, waving a hand to indicate _all of that_ , and Auston lets out a breathy laugh and his cheeks look a little pink, like he’s straight up delighted that Mitch thinks so. Mitch smiles, proud of himself, and then Auston’s arranging himself between Mitch’s legs and his breath is hot on Mitch’s cock and Mitch’s brain short-circuits again. 

Auston wraps one hand around the base of Mitch’s cock and his tongue darts out to lick the head, so fast that Mitch almost thinks he’s dreaming it, because the next thing he knows Auston is using his other hand to alternately fondle and suck on his balls. 

“Fuck,” Mitch swears with feeling, looking up at the ceiling. Auston works on his balls until Mitch starts writhing underneath him, and then Auston brings up a forearm to rest on Mitch’s hips to get him to be still. 

“Stay still, okay?” he says, looking up at Mitch. He’s got his serious face on, like they’re about to lose a lead and someone’s just taken a dumb penalty, and Mitch can’t do anything but nod and try to stop moving as Auston licks a long stripe up the underside of his cock. 

Of course, then Auston takes Mitch into his mouth all the way up to his hand, swallows, and takes him all the way down. 

Mitch chokes, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Auston looks up to glare at him, and it’s -- it’s a look, especially with his mouth full and his eyes watering just that little bit. 

“Sorry,” Mitch says, reaching out to pet the side of Auston’s head in apology. It works, apparently, because Auston starts moving his head then, up and down on Mitch’s cock.

It’s easily a top five blowjob -- top three, even. It’s wet and sloppy, the noise of Auston’s mouth on him absolutely _obscene_. Mitch moans, throws an arm across his eyes, unable to keep even a modicum of cool and look at Auston at the same time. Mitch moves his hips the tiniest bit, unable to stay completely still -- something he’s really never been good at, frankly -- but Auston maybe doesn’t mind that as much, because he just hums around Mitch’s cock. 

“Oh, _god,_ ” Mitch says, like the words have been punched out of him, and then, even though it’s too quick, he gasps, “I’m gonna --”

Auston’s mouth is off of Mitch’s cock like a rocket, but he replaces it with both hands, jerking Mitch through it. 

“Come on,” Auston murmurs, and his voice is rough and fucked out and just the sound of it is enough to push Mitch over the edge. He comes with a shout, all over his stomach, body arching over it like he really has been punched. 

“Yeah, good job,” Auston says. He moves so that he’s straddling Mitch’s thighs, and he rubs a hand through the jizz on Mitch’s stomach and uses that to jerk himself off. 

“Fuck,” Mitch whispers, watching. When Auston comes, quicker than Mitch is expecting, they lock eyes. Auston makes even more of a mess of Mitch’s stomach and then leans forward enough to kiss Mitch again, basically just breathing into his mouth, before collapsing onto the bed next to him. He keeps one arm over Mitch’s chest and one leg thrown over Mitch’s, even though they’re both sweaty and disgusting. Mitch likes it, though, smiling softly at the ceiling as they both try to get their breath back. 

After a minute, Auston nudges Mitch’s shoulder with his own. “Hey,” he says. 

Mitch turns his head to look over at him, grinning. “Hey back,” he says. 

Auston smiles. “Good?” 

“Pretty good,” Mitch agrees. Auston leans in to kiss Mitch again. It’s different than any kiss they’ve shared so far, soft and sweet. Mitch fucking loves it. 

“Real quick,” Auston says, “before we shower. Can I sleep in your bed? This one’s basically one giant wet spot now.” 

Mitch bursts out laughing. “Yeah, man,” he says. “But be warned I’m a cuddler.” 

“You?” Auston asks. “I never would’ve guessed.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Mitch says, but he’s definitely smiling too wide for it to hold any sort of weight. Sure enough, Auston just shrugs. 

“You like it.” 

“God help me, I do,” Mitch agrees. 

Their kiss this time isn’t great because they’re both smiling so wide it’s mostly teeth. 

It’s still pretty good, though. 


End file.
